


black tar tides

by jetame



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, all that high school stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 06:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6068707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetame/pseuds/jetame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(a high school texas au)<br/>maya and riley have lived in a sleepy town in southeast texas their whole lives through.<br/>all that's ever seperated the town girls is a bridge over the muddy river that splits their town in two.</p><p>until a boy moves in from dallas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. smoke stung

The bridge was not just a physical thing for Maya, at least not anymore. Maybe when she was young it seemed hopeful, like a cracked, concrete and steel link between the finer aspects of life and her. Maybe at some point she had felt more than just desperation riding her rusted bike across the spider webbed sidewalks. But by the time high school has rolled around, she wished to do nothing more than rip the thing limb from limb until all that was left was the roaring rapids around the 1950s era foundations. 

The Midway Bridge, named after the battle, marked the line in a town torn in two. One side was full of glittering new developments, all surrounded by security gates and high walls. The walls, there for the other siders, those hailing from less respected stations of life. Rig workers, elbow deep in black gold, shoulders burnt from the hot Gulf sun. The lush green of the gated communities was only made brighter by the dusty west side lawns. Grass was expensive, it needed water and time, two things those living on the west side couldn't afford much of. Even Maya's hard drinking daddy, a man known for his irresponsible nature and habit of destroying everything he touched, knew that grass was a luxury they just couldn't be blessed to enjoy. 

The last day of summer before junior year, the gate officer at Riley's street had let the gardener's in with Maya, surveying their scarred brown skin with a wary eye. The same eyes followed the contours of Maya's bones to the handles of her bike, where a plastic grocery bag hung. He had asked to see inside, and Maya, knowing that with her handy down bike and ratty t-shirt she stood no chance of fighting the invasive procedure, had opened it up. Inside was a bag of dirty bras and panties, to be washed in Riley's fancy laundry machine, and later dried from the clothes line in her own backyard. The man had stifled a laugh, opened the gate and watched the skinny blonde peddle away, not even a blush coming over her cheeks. She had long since grown tired of the shame. Poverty was a fact of her life she could not outrun no matter how hard she tried. Every day of pretending to be an east sider would end in her sleeping in the same rickety home anyways, and the act was draining. Everyone knew her story, everyone knew her life. The rumors would swirl and the stories would be passed along for as long as she had to endure life in San Perlita. She saw very little point. 

Junior year on the horizon, Maya ate dinner with the Matthews again, entertaining conversation of first day fears, outfits and goals. Topanga had purchased her a new sundress and strappy sandals the prior week, claiming it to be payment for some chore she'd done months before. Never too fond of charity, Maya had grit her teeth and taken the dress home, where it hung on her bedroom door, a fine layer of Texas dust collected on the sandal soles below. If Katy had taken notice, she'd been too tired from a diner shift to care much. Or she had been half a whisky bottle down on the living room floor and hadn't come far enough out of her self hatred and pity to see it. 

The outfit didn't garner much attention on the front steps of school the first morning, when Maya'd perched on the stair railing with Riley, Zay and Farkle, discussing the finer aspects of high school life, (drugs, drinking, parties, all of the things Maya had a self-destructive knack for), not until a unfamilar hand caught her from failing in the crowd when the bell rang. Her new sandals, a size too big for her tiny feet, had caught on a step, and in the crowd, only one boy had noticed her begin to fall. He had grabbed onto her waist, dwarfed by his massive palm, and pulled her body back into his. Turning back to either thank him or curse him out, Maya's breath hitched. In a town of 800, she'd never seen him before. Tall, tan and muscular, he had on a t shirt, baby blue with a little horse sticked at the pocket, khaki shorts and boat shoes. Instantly, she knew he was new on the east side from two simple facts. Riley was wearing a pink t shirt with one of those horses stitched on the breast, so it had to be from some preppy, over priced brand she'd never heard of, and any right minded east sider knew that Maya Penelope Hart was not to be touched with a ten foot long pole, lest she bite your hand off, or you catch some uncureable west side disease. 

"Thank you." She had mumbled under her breath. 

"Pretty dress." He had smiled down at her with bright white teeth some orthodontist must have slaved over for years. He had the kind of smile only money and luck could buy. 

Both embarrassed by falling and shell shocked by the new boy and his new compliments, Maya just walked by his side for a little while, hoping the silence would soon turn awkward and he'd find a new friend to meet, or she'd turn left and he'd turn right, or some meteor would drop through the school roof and end her misery on site. Instead, a voice so sweet she could have mistaken it as someone else's rose from her throat, a little strangled by the humidity lacing the air. 

"Where are you from?" He turned and looked down at her again, one hand on his backpack strap, the other digging in his pocket. 

"How'd you guess?" She didn't want to tell him that she'd known from two seconds of analyzing that he was both fresh meat, waiting to be grilled on the burning San Perlita pavement and richer than her by a mile. 

"Luck."

"Dallas. My dad's in oil. What about you?" His eyes played genuine interest at her, so she let herself indulge in a bit of a fictitious retelling of herself. 

"My name's Maya. Lived here as long as I can remember. My daddy should be about elbow deep in oil right now." He clearly didn't catch how _should_ was coated in spite, because he grinned like this somehow made them similar enough to be friends.

"Well, Maya, I'm Lucas." 

She must have sold her soul to the devil somewhere along the line, because she wrapped one bony arm around his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

"Nice to meet you, Lucas." 


	2. heartbeat

Lucas has been living in her world, more specifically Riley's world, for two months before he truly understands the magnitude of differences between his girlfriend and her best friend. He knows that Riley bites her tongue, keeps her opinions to herself if they aren't particularly kind. Riley likes roses, white ones, and always wears sunscreen. The scent gives her away.

Maya is more or less a mystery to him. He knows she tends to drift from party to party on weekends, looking for the best tequila. The scent of whisky makes her nose scrunch up until her freckles all blend into a line and her hair brings to mind a saying his devoutly religious grandmother always used, _of milk and honey._ She's green tea, summer tan, messy beautiful, squinting in the November sun, beside her best friend's perfected smile. It's a dusty, cautious kind of happy that looks like the kind of thing you'd only see in indie films or Coldplay videos. Maya keeps a whole lot of secrets. Riley keeps none. 

That night, he pulls down a long, gated driveway, Riley's hand clutching onto his bicep. Only minutes before she'd been abuzz with conversation, trying to convince him to do anything, go anywhere, but the party. She refereed to it, albeit lovingly, as a Maya event. The look in her eyes almost made his determination fade, but after a few minutes of pained begging, it seemed she had settled into her fate. 

From the second his hands wrap around the door handles and pull, he's blasted by a wall of sound. Kids screaming, music pounding, and above it all, like his ears are fine tuned to it, is a sickly sweet laugh, echoing in his mind. It's the laugh he first watched dance across her lips in the school foyer his first day. It's 110% fake, and only used to get what she wants, or when she's nervous. Riley must hear it to, because she is suddenly out of his sight, following the sound. He must have gotten a drink, or five, at some point, because the next memory is one crushing enough to make his stomach churn. He'd stumbled into a hallway, searching for a bathroom or something, and he'd opened the door to a bedroom. It must have been late, he should have gone home, but he opened the door, and in the moonlight filtering through the window, he saw two figure, resting in bed. One was asleep, a guy he'd never spoken to before, a senior on his football team. No name came to mind. Lying by his side, eyes wide in something like anger or fright, was Maya. There was a distinct redness to her eyes, even in the dark, and she smoothed her palms over her cheeks, letting out a shaky breath. She'd been crying.

Caught up watching, Lucas hardly noticed his feet creak against the floor boards until she turned in bed, and stared right at him.

"Are you okay?" His voice sounded unlike himself, hoarse from the whisky.

"Always am." He should have stopped, he should have handed her the dress that rested on the floor, he should have helped her up, made sure she got home. But his struggle to understand her took over again, and he backed away, shutting the door and leaving her to grieve the night.


	3. white stained black

Maya Hart doesn't get asked to homecoming.

This, in itself, is a scandal for Lucas. She's quite possibly one of the most beautiful girls he's ever seen, even when her face is marked by dark freckles and there's not a drop of anything on her skin. At first he thinks it's the scandal, all the guys she's connected to, all the parties she brings life to, the empty bottles she keeps in the back of her car. He suspects it's a prank too, that the day of the dance someone will show up at her gate with flowers and a smile, and she'll laugh and of they'll go.

He brings it up at practice, in between drills. When he asks, all the answers are vague. True, but vague. They say she's intimidating, that everyone's afraid she'll shoot them down. Some guys claim it's her lack of experience in long term relationships, which makes zero sense to him, but it must to everyone else, because they all murmur and nod around him. He keeps pressing though keeps asking and begging, until finally someone breaks it to him.

"She's from west side, Lucas. Why the fuck do you care?" He swallows hard.

"West side? Like Pine Bush Estates? That's a nice neighborh-" The guy laughs.

"West side as in across the bridge." His face must give him away. "You're telling me you've never been to west side. It's trailer parks and dusty roads and nothingness, basically." Another guy laughs, turning and glaring at the guy.

"At least we're happy." He must be from the west side, because he doesn't look too happy about the comments. 

"Shut up Hannigan. Your dad's gonna leave like her's." He turns back to Lucas, a little bit of spite dancing in his eyes. The sudden anger takes him by surprise. "Look, Friar. Hart's hot as fuck. Ass, legs, face, tits, personality. But looks only get you to the street corner if you're from west side, they don't get you on the actual bus."

"Are you implying..."

"Yeah. I am. If she's not working herself to death like her mother she'll be on that corner. Take a photo or something, show it to your college buddies. She'll still be here when you come back for reunions, pretty as ever."

"I don't think you're being..." He's cut off again.

"Fair? Life's not fair. " He shakes his head and turns back to the drill, hearing his coach scold him for talking. 

He throws four interceptions during that practice, Maya's laughing smile in his head.

\----

Homecoming spins along, weeks of tux fittings and practices blur into one long, growing roar until the lights of the stadium are on and he's standing on the line of scrimmage, the ball rolling off his fingertips. The clock ticks down. 5...4... two hands wrap around the white laces..3... the player turns, throwing his body back through the air.....2.....with a thud, his knee hits the dark blue spray paint f the endzone...1...the whistle blows, and the crowd roars to life. In awe, he watches as the stands shake from the student section, pulsating in one,, huge frenzy. Riley's body flies into the air in front of him, her pom poms shaking as she falls back to earth. It sounds cliche, but it's like it's in slow motion. His teammates are all shaking him, and he pulls of his helmet.

A tiny arm shoots up from the crowd, a finger gun pointing right at him. 

The fact that it's her and the she came is sweeter than the score in old LED lights.

The final buzzer sounds, and he can't but stare at the crowd. Riley's waiting at the fence, with the rest of the cheer team, like some Texas movie fairy tale, and he knows he should kiss her. Riley is 100% expecting him to kiss her, but instead he's jogging towards the field gate, away from the team. People are filing past, heading towards the gate house. Even with all the noise and movement, he spots her, body dwarfed by a blue school sweatshirt. 

"Hey Hart!" With his hands planted on the top, he climbs the fence slightly to yell over to her. 

She turns, startled, and squints back at him. 

"What?"

He doesn't know what the plan was, what his reason for running the length of field and shouting at her way, but in his panic he tries his best.

"Are you going tonight?"

She laughs.

"Not really sure it's my crowd." Just as she starts to walk away, he thinks.

"Jake's having a party at his lake house after but you have to go to the actual dance. I can drive you to the party. Hell, I'll drive you to the dance."

She looks around, like she's contemplating. 

"Alright. Text me, Friar."

And with that, she's gone. Left behind, a blushing star player, his confused girlfriend and Jake, with a new addition to his party.


End file.
